


we could be an accident

by bluesy



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alpha/Beta, Eventual Porn, M/M, Sibling Incest, tw: second person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesy/pseuds/bluesy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He's your brother, Dave. Your brother.</i>
</p><p>post sburb outcome non-specific au in which the striders live together. </p><p>multiple perspectives in later chapters. shameless self-indulgent angsty porn written in second person. </p><p>does not end happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the chapters get longer/better, i promise.

You've been living with Dirk for almost three months, and you're still not sure what you think of him.

Dirk is a good housemate – he keeps to himself for the most part, showers twice a day at least and cleans up after himself. He challenges you to sword fights you almost always lose at least once a week and it's good. It brings you back home and you miss Bro a little less every day. There's no shame in losing with Dirk. You're allowed to improve and he isn't afraid to tell you when you have. 

Dirk doesn't like himself very much. It takes you a while to see it but it's there, just beneath the surface, evident in the way he slashes his shitty swords at thin air until he's limp and taking heaving breaths and in the way he smokes four packs a day and the way his eyes hollow out when he thinks you aren't looking, like he's barely there, like whatever spark he had in his life is gone, like it left a long time ago and he can't figure out how to get it back. 

Dirk is all angles. He reminds you of the other him, with the sharp jaw and collarbones that could kill and eyes that might as well be looking right into you. You don't like it when Dirk takes his glasses off, when you can see the intensity of the amber of his eyes, the same intensity that took you off guard during those rooftop excursions with your brother. Your other brother. 

You only notice on those occasions when he saunters from the bathroom down the hallway, towel hung loose around his waist, momentarily liberated from his glasses and his dumb hair. He was only concerned with privacy for the first few weeks; after that his image seemed to dissolve in front of you, faded away as the boundary lines did.

Every time he pads into the kitchen with that towel and his sopping hair and shoulder blades and freckles dotting down to the small of his back that might as well match yours you try not to look. You try to avert your eyes and tell yourself that he's your brother, and even if that isn't technically true all you can see is your brother standing in your kitchen and drinking your apple juice out of the bottle. You just can't help the way your eyes fall on the lean muscle of his torso, the light dimples where his towel begins to slip.

He's your brother, Dave. Your brother.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dirk breaks down more boundaries. so does dave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will there be porn??
> 
> spoiler alert: no
> 
> tw for anxiety/panic disorders in this and the coming chapters.

Jade is giving you a hug goodbye at the door and Dirk is pretending not to be watching from the kitchen. You can practically feel his eyes on you, intense as ever, and you're on your guard. Jade ruffles your hair and waves and disappears and you're left in that cloud of Jade-was-just-here confusion that she always leaves behind. She has a thing for you, Dirk likes to remind you, but he keeps his mouth shut this time. He smokes. He taps the ashes to the floor. Dirk is clean in every other sense of the word but this is one of those things he does. The ashtray is on the counter right next to him, but he still flicks them to the ground, almost like he knows it's going to drive you insane. 

For a moment you're locked in this stare with him and you wish you had the guts to say what you want to, but you're not good with feelings. He is, sometimes, but you're a different brand of Strider.

He backs his ass against the counter and slides up onto the edge. He says “I'll give it a week before you and Jade are together.” And there's a knot in your stomach because you don't want that. She's a friend the same way Rose is and the person you want is sitting ten feet away from you with a cigarette in his mouth. He won't drop the girlfriend thing, like he's baffled by the fact that you aren't getting any, like he feels guilty about having regular sex while you're alone in your room mixing tracks or watching bad movies with John. He asks about John once and you flush because he's your best friend and you never even considered anything outside of friendship and neither of you are gay, you think, despite John's raging man-crush on Matthew Mcconaughey and your own blooming crush on your own brother. 

Dirk is gay. Really, honestly, properly gay. He tells you one night about Jake, about that whole mess, about how Jake avoided him and wouldn't speak to him for what felt like a decade. He tells you that he never wants that again and you don't know how to respond, especially because he still has Jake in his bedroom at least once a week.

You've been trying not to think about everything, like the fact that Dirk's hipbones haunt your dreams and that sometimes you can hear him moaning through the walls and there's forever a part of you that wishes you were on the other side with him. 

\--- 

One afternoon Dirk pads into the kitchen, fresh out of the shower with no towel on, sopping wet and sans glasses and you almost choke. He snags an orange off the counter, flashes a grin your way, and walks back down the hall, as if there's nothing out of the ordinary. You shout after him, “What the ever living _fuck_ are you doing?” but the only response you get is the soft thud of a door being closed behind him. 

You get it, though – he becomes less constructed with every passing day but you still retain everything from before – the mask of 'cool' and the glasses and the air of casual disinterest you've always maintained. They won't leave you. You're still a walking lie.

You wonder whether he can see through it. You wonder if that's why he's breaking down these boundaries. 

\--- 

You're crouching low to the ground, behind an a/c unit, your breathing heavy and your hands curled tightly around a sword handle. Fractions of a second later, the air is filled with the sound of metal dashing off each other and you're trying to tear into him and he's reacting with fluidity and ease which only makes you wonder how the hell did he manage get this good at swordsmanship with no one to practice with? 

You make a mistake and take a half step in the wrong direction and he has you against the wall in a second. You lock eyes with him through your shades. The corner of his lips rise in amusement and all it would take is one movement forward, just a few inches and you'd be touching him and probably injuring yourself in the process, but before you can make any decisions, he's withdrawn, swinging his sword in his hand with dexterity and calling back, “Better be more careful next time, bro.”

You slash at the air. 

You curse your delayed reaction. 

You wish he'd stop teasing you, if that's even what he's doing. 

\--- 

Dirk crawls into bed with you on a Sunday night. His breath is shaky and he's next to you but doesn't touch – you just feel the buckle of the bed and watch as he curls in on himself. You pretend to be asleep and listen to his breathing as it steadies against your mattress and this is just bizarre, isn't it?

He's been awake for hours since you went to bed, on the phone with someone. He gets too loud and wakes you up but the following murmurs lull you back to sleep. It's usually Jake, and the thought twists your stomach into a bitter knot. 

The two of you lay in silence for several minutes. You've peeled your eyes open to watch him. His fists are balled in the sheets and his eyes are squeezed shut but he's back to breathing normally. Finally, his eyes crack open and you make eye contact and it takes him half a second to move to get out of your bed, but you've been waiting for this – you catch him by the wrist and tug him close to you, and your other finds its way around his neck as you drag him down. 

You kiss him for the first time and it's like a grand event, lips brushing and then tongues colliding, and lord, this feels like something you've been waiting decades to do. His fingers wind momentarily into your hair and his mouth leaves yours to trail a few light kisses down your neck and then he's gone, just like that. The door shuts behind him and you're left to handle the twisted mess he's left your psyche in.


End file.
